


storge

by thebetterbina



Series: in regards to love [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, basically tony adopts peter, cherry picking canon, inspired by that one writing prompt, mentions of it, nothing bad happens tho i swear, okay i kinda lied, rating bc theres swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: They skip over the thousand point children, usually left to average middle-class couples not ready to deal with an infant or toddler but enough they could take on one that could speak for themselves—Chloe instead takes him straight to the heart of the facility, where the most protected children are kept.The room is bright, much like the rest of the facility, but it’s colourful too; the carpet is plush, well kept, books and snacks strewn across low tables mixed with various toys and puzzles on the floor. He counts and notes there are about twenty five kids here, all given the best care like the golden gooses they were until they get adopted off.“Let me know if you see any little one to your liking.” Chloe beams.Tony adopts little Peter, goes about as well as you can expect if we're talking about having the Avengers as a family.Storge is the love parents naturally feel for their children. It’s based on natural feelings and effortless love. Storge is the love that knows forgiveness, acceptance and sacrifice. It is the one that makes you feel secure, comfortable and safe.





	1. the adoption

**Author's Note:**

> betad, but im pretty sure there are some mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also my first step into the marvel fandom, nice 2 meet u

Tony is many things—billionaire, playboy, genius, philanthropist; modern day Da Vinci on a good day, and Merchant of Death on any other. He’s the person people want to be, or at the least, want to be  _ seen _ with. Money and power came hand in hand, and it just so happens life decided to give him both. 

 

He’s lucky in that sense.

 

Yet, it’s in one of those moments of being Iron Man, he watches a lady happily hoist her young daughter up to wave at him—that Tony, rather abruptly, decides he wants something more.

 

He wants a child.

 

It’s that thought that puts him on a pause, throughout his life he’d gone content with the fact he’d never want anything to do with children; God knows his own father wasn’t a good role model, and the fear of failing a young life—what, with his rather chaotic and self-destructive ways—is enough to have the gears in his brain stop to actually consider why that rather intrusive thought got louder each day.

 

_ The Life Foundation _ .

 

Children weren’t brought into the world traditionally anymore, it was practically illegal to give natural birth; instead they were grown, test tube babies, filtered according to ability from their genes and basically ‘sold’ by points to adults looking to have a child. It sounds sinister, like some screwed up child trafficking ring of some dystopian novel, but it’s entirely legal and has come to be accepted as standard practice.

 

Parent Points was the currency used, and there were a number of ways an adult could achieve them. Collection of these points started as soon as the adult hit eighteen—from there things like having a house, having a stable job, being a functional member of society, exemplary behaviour, even attending parenting seminars would slowly up the chance of adults looking to foster a new life. It was a good system in theory; it curbed the whole overpopulation issue, it was hard enough to earn the points that most people only ended up having a child past their mid twenties, and stopped the chances of children being brought into unsavoury households when points could be deducted on things such as criminal charges.

 

Tony, while entirely chaotic with an alcohol problem he doesn’t bother to deny having, was still a highly distinguished member of the upper class. Not only that, he had more money then he knew what to do with and the entire empire of Stark Industries to boot. 

 

It’s no surprise his points are well over their hundreds of thousands.

 

He’d live the majority of his life in a haze, gluing up a front of being an undefeated superhero with money as his superpower that—and here he’s finally walking up to those pristine translucent doors—the entire experience seems almost surreal. He schools his face into neutral territory, blinding flashes of the paparazzi and their constant stream of questions something he’s used to; somehow they’d manage to get wind of his visit to the facility and he makes a mental note to be at least a little more careful with who he calls to make appointments. He doesn’t exactly favour the idea of tabloids and newspapers speculating about what kid he’s going to walk out with, but eh, what’s done is done.

 

Who’s to blame him? He’d made the call,  _ impulsively _ , on his own—and managed to give Pepper the scare of her life when he’d announced he was going to adopt a child. 

 

She’d proceeded to give him a full day lecture, followed closely behind by Rhodey and Dr. Banner who gave him one of those looks; the ones where he pushes up his glasses and pinches the space between his brows to give a long suffering sigh that always manages to make Tony regret anything he does or says. 

 

He’d followed through however, no secret was it that whatever Tony Stark wanted—he got.

 

“Mister Stark! We’re so glad to have you here, can I get you anything beforehand? Would you like me to talk to you through the process?”

 

The lady who greets him is chipper, her blonde hair carefully combed back into a neat ponytail and sparkling blue eyes to match an equally cheery personality. Her white dress is simple, pressed, reminding Tony of those fake getups for nurse outfits that gives him the vague impression of coming in for a check up rather than adoption. Her name tag reads ‘Chloe’, and she’s the only person to greet him aside from the receptionist who only gives a curious glance up before returning to his duties.

 

“Let’s just get straight to it.”  

 

“Of course!” Her smile is radiant, the kind telling of a person who either adored their job or just happened to be used to being around rich, single, eligible bachelors. She doesn’t spare a second glance before motioning him forward.

 

He’d read the provided information beforehand, getting JARVIS to pull out anything and everything noteworthy about the facility and their procedures. Adults get their points counted, notified if they’re eligible to come in for an adoption—they get to select a child, have a short meeting, and either repeat the process or go home walking away with whatever their accumulated points could cost them.

 

“It’s about the parents for us—the children are given the best possible environment to grow up in and from then on it’s all about finding the right home. The number of children that get successfully adopted for out facility is ninety-nine percent! Of course, bearing in mind there might be some unexpected issues—almost always that lie with the adults.” Her smile never falters through the explanation, it’s almost impressive, but Tony listens to disinterest; he’d already watched the way Chloe’s eyes had lit up at the six digit points accumulated in his name.

 

They skip over the thousand point children, usually left to average middle-class couples not ready to deal with an infant or toddler but enough they could take on one that could speak for themselves—Chloe instead takes him straight to the heart of the facility, where the most protected children are kept. 

 

The viewing window he recognises as a Stark product, shading itself out as black slowly dissolves to transparent and he’s given a much clearer view of the inside. He watches the children in their batches, screaming with delight—there’s a caregiver for every three, all equipped with headpieces and medical training, genuine affection on faces as they play and listen to the babbles of the kids. 

 

The room is bright, much like the rest of the facility, but it’s colourful too; the carpet is plush, well kept, books and snacks strewn across low tables mixed with various toys and puzzles on the floor. He counts and notes there are about twenty five kids here, all given the best care like the golden gooses they were until they get adopted off.

 

“Let me know if you see any little one to your liking.” Chloe beams. “The tablet is here with all the relevant information, the ages range from toddlers to eight, the best ages for learning! Of course the oldest one here never managed to reach eight before getting adopted off, they’re very well received.”

 

The console appears just below the viewing window, the welcoming sign is in a flattering gold with blooming flowers for effect as he reads the words.

 

Dahlia Room

500,000PP - 900,000PP per child

Exceptional ability in core subjects, advanced language skills, superior mathematics, excellent athleticism. Personalities ranging between docile and extroverted, non-disruptive behaviors.

 

He gives a low whistle, normal people would never be able to even touch a child from this room.

 

He would know. He was one of them.

 

It’s somewhat jarring to realize he’d grown up in a facility like this. Admittedly, Tony doesn’t have much recollection of his memories before being adopted—he’d been taken in as an infant by Howard and Maria Stark, and while he admits Howard was never the ideal father (never physically abusive, but very emotionally distant); he realizes he finally understands what it means to leave a legacy. 

 

The difference is, Tony is not going to be the same. 

 

His eyes roam across the room, various children—no doubt all would grow into stunning adults with jarringly high IQs, but his eyes land somewhere to the back area; where the bulk of the books are past all the hyperactive children to one sitting rather demurely to a corner. Tuft of brown hair practically dwarfed under the book, an encyclopaedia of sorts if the size was anything to go by Tony distantly notes, and he watches for awhile the chaos around the kid who seems entirely unfazed and content on pouring attention to the book.

 

“Who’s that?” He gives a vague motion behind, but Chloe gets the message.

 

“Oh! That’s Peter—he’s bright, the brightest definitely, but on the terribly shy side you see. He’s an absolute angel but he gets so nervous around new people.” He watches carefully as her face falls a little at the explanation, a little solemn as if the kid was about to get sent off to the chopping block for not getting picked. For some reason the thought irks him.

 

He gives a considering hum, watching the kid, Peter, who’s rapt attention and singular focus gives him a reminder of himself—the caretaker assigned to him no doubt being pestered by the two other kids, only all the more willing to let Peter do as he pleased, the fact he’s not causing a ruckus is enough to give him extra points to Tony’s own criteria. 

 

“Can I meet him?”

 

Her blinding smile returns and somehow Tony gets the feeling all the people here get training on how to  _ smile _ because there’s no way a normal person manages that many upturned lip motions unless they’re dead inside. 

 

“Of course! Give me just a moment.” 

 

She speaks into her own piece and watches as one of the caretakers gets alerted, male, dark skin with another small placating smile playing on his features as he nods—carefully putting down the crayon he’d been using to colour with the child before dutifully walking over to Peter and talking animatedly with the little boy. Peter gives a glance up, before turning to the mirror and cocking his head, getting up and dusting himself off before taking the caretakers hand and following.

 

“Josh, please bring Peter to the interview room—yes, now please. Thanks! Mister Stark please follow me.”

 

She guides him down another hidden hall, her voice chattering on about just how lovely Peter was and how much he’d definitely adore him; somehow Tony highly doubts he’s going to swoon for a kid on first meeting but he listens anyways.

 

“—oh he’s such a caring child too, he loves helping around when he’s not reading you know? Helps put the younger ones to sleep like such a big brother, goes right back to reading and sometimes we have to bargain for him to even put a book down to eat!” Her laughter is airy, light like little bells, recalling the memory with such fondness Tony is reminded just how professional these people were at caring for tinier things; almost like real parents.

 

“Here we are! Feel free to take as long as you need.”

 

Tony wants to say the room reminds him of an interrogation room, it really does, bleak walls and boxed in nature—but it’s also very colourful, what with the mats and a table, careful bookshelf to a side and box of toys, no doubt including pencils and papers just to keep the children entertained for the adults to get a grasp on the child.

 

Peter’s already been led in, kneeling by the side of the shelf like the bookworm and only giving a careful glance his way when the door opens. The little guy has a set of brown eyes, wide and doe like, just blinking at him before turning back to the shelf. 

 

Tony doesn’t know if children greeting adults should be a normal thing, but he supposed if you were made to constantly meet with strangers it’d get tiring having to go through the motions all the time. He settles instead to squat next to the kid, probably making an interesting scene for the people watching—a grown man just staring idly at a tiny bookshelf with a kid.

 

“Hey,”

 

Peter looks his way, “Hi.”

 

“You picked a book yet?”

 

“I’ve read most of these.”

 

“Huh, so you like reading huh?”

 

Peter gives a nod. Small steps.

 

“What’re your favourite?”

 

“I like the ones with the facts, spiders are my favourite.”

 

“Spiders? Cool, wanna tell me a spider fact?”

 

Peter glances back at him and smiles shyly.

 

“Did you know the silk strands in a web are five times stronger than a piece of steel the same size?”

 

They fall into that, a sort of easy conversation with Peter rattling on about spider facts and Tony nodding sagely—the kid is talkative but he supposes Chloe’s assessment stems from the fact no one really got him talking about his favourite subjects. Eventually Peter does dial it down, instead curiously asking about Tony and what he does—Tony keeps it as parental friendly as possible, not really into the whole “I create weapons of mass destruction” talk when he’s in front of a kid no older than six. 

 

“So you build robots and stuff?”

 

Tony considers that, then nods. “You could say that. Yeah.”

 

“I like robots, Transformers are cool.”

 

“What do you like about them?”

 

“How they can talk and stuff, like humans even though they’re cars.”

 

“Oh really? Do You know what  an AI is kid?”

 

“Artificial intelligence! They have one here, her name is AMANDA and sometimes we get to talk to her.”

 

“I’ve got  a personal one at home, his name is JARVIS.”

 

“That’s so cool! So he helps around the house and stuff right?”

 

Tony likes this kid.

 

As much as he’d thought he’d never say it he very genuinely likes Peter—likes the way the kid practically lights up at new information, sucking it in like a sponge. They hit an hour mark without even realising, Tony sitting on the floor with Peter next to him; shelf completely forgotten with how engrossed he was at firing off his questions. Chloe pops her head in and then only does he realize how much time he’d spent sitting on the floor just talking to Peter, he gets up and notes how Peter seems to deflate. 

 

Still, it doesn’t stop him from ruffling the little guy’s hair, listening to him squeak at the motion.

 

He follows Chloe out to the hall and she’s almost immediate with how quickly she fawns, “He’s never responded so well before! Gosh it was so nice watching him open up, I do hope you’ll consider adopting Peter—he’s never looked so radiant, he’d make a lovely addition—“

 

“—I’ll adopt him.”

 

If possible, Chloe brightens further. “That’s wonderful! As you understand we have a week processing—”

 

Her voice fades out to him, he knows this part of the entire process; takes about a week for them to get everything ready and also acts as a buffer in case Tony decides to change his mind or meets another child he wants to adopt. But he’s made his decision. For once in his life, a very sound decision.

 

_ “Are you sure you don’t want to visit the other facilities?” _

 

_ “I’m sure Pep, the kid’s adorable—you’re gonna love him.” _

 

Her wry smile is telling, he hasn’t touched any of his liqueur, went straight to child proofing his entire penthouse and immediately got the room closes to him cleared out and fitted with little desks and shelves of Spider books the moment he came back. 

 

Chloe is there to greet him again, but he’s still annoyed how the reporters are there—Pepper had done her best to spin a story saying Tony would be visiting another facility but a number of them are there when he gets through the door. It’s a worry for another time. Of course the kid isn’t there yet, he has to go through an entire chunk of papers regarding the adoption and just everything and anything about Peter. 

 

He gets it all requested to be sent as soft copies, the only hard copy thing Tony finds himself with is a file detailing Peter’s birth and necessary medical information. He skims through it while they walk back to the foyer, the kid is already there waiting patiently with a different caretaker—female this time, a soft smile on her face as she talks.

 

If Peter was sulking before, that changes entirely, his whole face lighting up as he watches Tony appear and probably puts the pieces together.

 

“I’m coming with you?”

 

“Course kid. Come on, you’ve  got a whole lab waiting for you.”

 

He practically bounces on his feet, moving to take Tony’s hand but not before giving the two caretakers hugs.

 

“Bye Kara, bye Chloe!”

 

“Okay kid, there’s gonna be lots of flashes outside from the vultures. You want me to cover you or you think you can handle it?” 

 

Peter shifts from one foot to another, chewing his bottom lip before glancing up at Tony. “Carry me? Please?”

 

Tony can feel his heart  _ melting _ .

 

“Okay come on, up you go.”

 

He hooks two hands under outstretched arms, easily hoisting the kid up and pulling him close. Tiny arms wrap around his neck, Peter hiding his little face in the crook of Tony’s neck. He keeps a careful hand under the kid and one on top his head, patting a tuft of brown as the doors are opened.

 

“Keep your eyes closed kid.”

 

“Mkay.”

 

Happy keeps his stoic face neutral as the voices of the reporters ring. He feels Peter tighten his hold, definitely nervous at the sudden change of atmosphere. The facility was quiet, the caretakers all mild mannered and gentle, only pinched by the sounds of squealing kids—this was entirely different. 

 

They make it to the car easily enough, Tony carefully sliding in with Peter still carefully tucked under him. He gives a couple more pats on the untamed hair, it’s only when the doors close that Peter finally looks up, face scrunched up, and Tony doesn’t bother suppressing his smile at his next words.

 

“I didn’t like that.”

 

“What did I tell you, vultures huh?”

 


	2. peter anthony stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter takes over the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> the lore from the first chapter won't affect the later chapters too much, im just a sucker and need an excuse to write more irondad content

_Peter Anthony Stark._

 

That’s what the adoption papers read and what ends up plastered across headlines. It has a nice ring to it, and takes Tony a full month before he stops saying Peter’s full name because of how many people have outright just told him to shut up about it. Not that it stops him though, if there’s one thing he’s made clear was just how doting of a father he was going to be.

 

If Tony thought Peter was an angel in the facility—the kid practically flourishes under him. All wide eyed, full of a wonder, rattling off questions to Tony and then to JARVIS, big smile at the red-blue themed room and gasp at the little library stacked full with rows of books of everything about spiders. Kid had spent about two hours in his room before Tony decided to worryingly check on him, only to find Peter curled under the blanket with just about half the shelf of books laid across the bed and floor in a haphazard mess like a small tornado just blew through.

 

It’s endearing.

 

What’s even more endearing is Peter’s first reaction to the team.

 

Back in the facility, from what Tony understood, they limited what they considered unnecessary information for development. The kids were mostly exposed to traditional hard covered books rather than modern day tablets, and scrawled with crayons and paper. Lessons were taught by textbook and supervised interactive board lessons, daily news was mostly restricted to verbal answers than watching live television. The huge holographic screen quickly becomes one of Peter’s favourite thing to look at, buzzing through cartoons and movies and once just so happened to flip onto a news channel talking about _the Avengers_.

 

Peter becomes a quick fan of them.

 

Tony _preens_ when he tells him Iron Man is his favourite.

 

Not forgetting Pepper and Rhodey of course, but Peter had long managed to charm the both of them when he looked up with those ridiculous puppy eyes, a little quiver in his voice—hiding behind Tony and not even having to work the whole thing when they practically turn to putty at the act. There’s just something about a seven year old shyly calling you _Miss Pepper_ and _Mister Rhode_ y that makes even the strongest adult weak in the knees.

 

The rest of the team don’t take too well to the idea at first, something about very dangerous individuals in one tower with a tiny non-powered human just screamed _unsafe_. But really it’s Tony’s tower so he gets to do whatever the hell he wants, even if that means banishing the team for a few days as Peter got used to the new space that was mostly restricted to the floor of the tower where their bedrooms and the common room were.

 

Natasha is the first to meet him.

 

She didn’t get the memo, was on some off-grid mission when Tony got the team around to break the news. The meeting is entirely by accident and when JARVIS politely informs him Peter and the Black Widow were in the same confined space for about three hours now since Peter waking up Tony bolts because he’s suddenly struck with the fact his son could possibly wind up—

 

—hoisted on her hip, head tucked under her chin. Green eyes flicking up to Tony as he arrives, turning around to show a very much asleep child. She turns back to him and only has one thing to say on the whole matter.

 

“If anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this tower and then myself.”

 

Tony nods, agreeing.

 

Natasha pointedly refuses to put him down.

 

It’s a spiral from there.

 

Clint is the next one to meet him, treats Peter with the same amount of gentle care he shows for his bows. Peter absolutely loves them, practically glues himself to Natasha and takes to her calling her тетенька (aunty) much to Tony’s chagrin. He begins learning Russian too if that isn’t worrying enough. But it’s not as if they mind—Nat actually enjoys holding Peter up even though Tony keeps telling her he’s a little too old for it, and Clint finds a new buddy to climb the vents with.

 

Bruce is the second to meet him, and while Tony is a little hesitant—knows how much the guy frets for being recognised and only known for being the Hulk, Peter pulls a card Tony didn’t even know he had and suspects his son might be something of a master manipulator.

 

“Doctor Banner! Dad says you do lots of _science_ —will you teach me? Please? Dad got me books on spider silk but I don’t understand it sometimes and he’s useless at explaining.”

 

Bruce pulls him to aside that same day and tells Tony he’s going to be Peter’s godfather whether he likes it or not because Bruce adores the kid and the Hulk also apparently likes this tiny new addition.

 

Sam and Scott fall hard and fast, the same way. Like dominos, Peter has another two of the Avengers team wrapped around his fingers doing his bidding. It’s getting ridiculous at this point but Tony fears putting a stop to it would just halt the fun.

 

Thor isn’t there, _yet_ , and a part of Tony feels a little thankful for that—he’s not exactly sure how to feel about the kid meeting a literal God who had little to no common sense when it came to strength. He’s more thankful when he considers he doesn’t have to deal with Loki, _yet_ , either.

 

The most interesting meeting however, is with Steve and Bucky.

 

They’d probably gotten the word the common area was safe now, and it’s a chatty morning with Peter babbling about the _coolest_ research Bruce had shown him as they walk in—both of their eyes zooming onto the tiny thing on the high chair surrounded by the team giving only the utmost attention. Peter gasps when he sees them, struggling off the chair to run up with that starry eyed gaze Tony knows this kid learned from somewhere.

 

“You’re Captain America! And you’re his buddy!”

 

Steve, who’s probably used to the adoration from young fans, kneels and smiles. “That’s me, but you can call me Steve—that’s Bucky.”

 

“I’m Peter, dad says you’re mean but I don’t believe him—oh! Can I touch you arm? Please? Please?” Steve is about midway through a withering glare directed to Tony before Peter’s attention gets latched onto the shining metal of Bucky’s arm; who frankly looks a little constipated at the tiny buzzing human with even tinier fingers trying to reach out. It takes a short while but eventually Bucky concedes and gives a nod, one Peter happily acts on as little digits trail across the smooth prosthetic. The awe doesn’t last long before Peter sharply looks up, abrupt look of absolute seriousness as he says the next words.

 

“Carry me.”

 

It’s not even a question, outright demand, and Bucky glances at Tony only for the billionaire to give an acquiesce of a shrug. It’s obvious who calls the shots now.

 

“ _Carry me_.” Oh no, it’s getting insistent.

 

After a couple of minutes of fumbling, Peter gets hoisted on broad shoulders and has the time of his life telling everyone how much taller he is than everyone now. Steve has a wry smile on his face, and even Bucky struggles to look discontent with the whole development.

 

Just like that, Peter Anthony Stark has almost all of the worlds most feared superheroes eating off the palm of his tiny seven year old hand.

 

Tony can’t tell if he should be afraid of proud.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I bet he could do the same with Fury.”

 

“We are _not_ —”

 

* * *

 

It takes a little planning to lure Fury out to visit the tower, one carefully placed word from a trusted agent and a growing betting pool and little Peter meets Nick Fury for the first time.

 

“Oh uh—hey Fury—meet Peter, you’ve seen him. Oh look at that, I gotta—uh—go for two seconds to get that one specific file that’s in paper that JARVIS has completely no access to therefore I must get—in person. By hand. Bye.”

 

Tony bolts out of the room, doors sliding shut behind him knowing fully he just left his practically toddler child in with a dangerous man.

 

The team waits outside for approximately thirty minutes.

 

Someone’s phone flashes as they walk in.

 

“—and little red shot the wolf—“

 

“—Jesus, Fury, couldn’t you do a PG version of a kids story—“

 

“—Stark, I’m not your babysitter—“

 

“—well I have the file now so you can go—“

 

From Fury’s lap, Peter gives an unholy screech it has even the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. _flinching_.

 

“No! Mister Nick promised to finish the story!”

 

“Okay little guy we’re finishing the story.”

 

Like a beast now satisfied, Peter settles back down with a placid smile on features. Expectant kicking of tiny legs with Nick Fury reading some Grimm version of _Little Red Riding Hood_ as the team struggles not to laugh.

 

* * *

 

It’s just come to be accepted as a superpower and Tony readily agrees, it’s ridiculous enough he’s more afraid of the idea of new people meeting Peter than Peter meeting new people. The kid has a sense of charm about him, drawing people in like a magnet—it’s not even the cocky kind Tony is known for, it’s far more innocent than that; radiant like the sun that doesn’t judge and still smiles at you. Refreshing.

 

Tony would never admit it, but he’s getting jealous of all the attention Peter’s begun to give the others.

 

But it works, in some strange way—there’s always someone at the tower looking after Peter and if the whole team gets called out Pepper and Happy were all too happy to babysit him. Peter threw a fit the first few times Tony had to leave with the full team and it was one of the only few times Peter was ever inconsolable.

 

He makes it up to him of course, spends the next day with them getting sick off gelato and popcorn, watching Barbie and singing along to the Princess and the Pauper until Peter finally, _finally_ , passes out quietly asleep on the corner of the couch.

 

Thor eventually does drop by, with Loki no less, and the God arrives with a boom of deep rumbling laughter that gets caught somewhere in his throat at the sight of tiny Peter that tumbles over to him. Thor practical _dwarfs_ Pete and the kid still only looks up at the two with the same childlike wonder, completely unafraid.

 

Peter holds his arms. _Expectant_.

 

Thor doesn’t disappoint.

 

“Man of Iron! You did not tell me you had a spawn! Who birthed this healthy young? One of your spoils of war, I wonder?”

 

Tony chokes on his coffee.

 

“Thor, _no_ , Earth has this thing called adoption.”

 

“I see! The resemblance is uncanny! Tell me little man, what is your name.”

 

“I’m Peter! Nice to meetcha!”

 

“Hello Peter, I am Thor, and this is my brother, Loki.”

 

Tony can feel the migraine impending.

 

It’s a lot worse than he could imagine.

 

While Thor is surprisingly good with handling Peter, by that Tony means not using super strength to crush his only child, Loki is the one that Tony swears is trying to give him an aneurysm.

 

“Again! Again!”

 

Tony walks in, on _himself_ , and he takes a couple of blinks before the doppelgänger changes back Loki. Both of them don’t notice his arrival.

 

“That’s so cool! Do you think I could learn it?”

 

“Mere mortals wouldn’t have the capability.”

 

Peter gives a small frown, bottom lip trembling, Tony is about half a step of intervening because the day does _not_ need to start with a bawling Peter—before Loki immediately goes into _placating_ mode.

 

“Well I’m sure there are other things I can teach you—“

 

Tony backs off from the whole situation. His nerves aren’t ready for it. If Peter becomes just a tad bit more sneaky after the two finally take their leave, he doesn’t say anything about it. Thor leaves with a familiar pat on the head, promising to bring back Asgardian toys and treats. Loki, surprisingly, gives Peter a _hug_ and a tiny little bracelet emerald he promises Peter can talk to him from.

 

Peter Anthony Stark, at seven years old, has the full team of the Avengers, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and a _God_ doing his bidding.

 

Tony is terrified for the world.


	3. baby's birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Stark birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> a.k.a. the chapter where everyone needs to learn to calm down before they overwhelm the baby
> 
> also ? title change bc this one has more significant meaning to me

Tony finds out a number of interesting things about his son.

 

Aside from the puppy eyes and disturbing ability to bend people to his will—Peter doesn’t particularly like listening to authority figures, and Tony doesn’t know why. Aside from Natasha and Pepper, and maybe Tony on occasion; Peter doesn’t take to well to anyone else telling him off for his behaviour.

 

_ That _ part of Peter’s personality they blame Tony (of all people) for, but he vehemently denies it because he’s not the one going around bending over backwards to please a seven year old.

 

The main culprit being Happy, the guy sneaks Pete so many mini Snicker bars it takes JARVIS to politely inform Tony every time it happens just so he can question the man whether what Peter did was reward worthy. Most of the time it’s not.

 

Peter certainly acts spoiled, a little bit of a brat, but at the same time it’s never been entirely unreasonable. He fusses only during times the team can spare their attention, and is mostly a well behaved kid when they go off on missions and someone else is left to look after him. Reads his books, accompanies Bruce or Tony quietly in their workshop when they have things to do, knows when to leave the room when a team member is too exhausted to deal with his energy and is … overall a good kid. 

 

Peter is also perceptive.

 

During the times he isn’t breaking his voice hoarse from shrieking ( _ shrieking _ , Christ, the kid Tony brought home was as quiet as a mouse— _ what happened _ ) he’s watching, careful eyes just trailing after people without a word being said—surprisingly its only Clint and Nat who see this part of Peter for the observant, watchful little guy he is. 

 

It’s also the way he acts on those observations that make Tony love his son a little more; if he notices Bruce not eating for hours on end he’ll go down to the floors he can access and politely asks the chefs for something light to be brought up, if Bucky seems a little more tense than usual he’ll ask for the soldier to sit down and play Pokemon with him, if Rhodey walks in looking a little worse for wear the kid shares his favourite (weirdly addicting) hot chocolate concoction and babbles on about his day. 

 

He pulls Nat aside to ask, just for her opinion on why Peter does it—her response? She doesn’t know, it’s not as if Peter was  _ trained _ for these things. Peter had come from a top notch child care facility that excelled in giving the utmost love and attention to each of the children that got behind their doors; from the moment Peter was born, he had a team of people who were ready to shower him in unconditional love until someone else came along to make it more permanent. 

 

So leads Tony to the conclusion that Peter does it, simply because he  _ can _ , because that’s just who the kid was. With those wide eyes that always looked up at you like you were his personal  _ hero _ who just hung the sun, moon and every individual star in his sky—how could anyone deny the fact Peter was an  _ angel _ ? 

 

That makes Peter’s eighth birthday something of a riot.

 

They’d had a discussion, full on conference meeting with Fury on video call on how’d they’d celebrate little Pete’s birthday. 

 

Sam had suggested something small—private, just the team and the little guy and cake and present opening time. It’s a good idea, not too overwhelming for a child but just enough to let him know he’s well loved. And they’d have gone through with the idea but it takes Pepper to put a cap on it.

 

Peter’s existence, aside from that one press release after his adoption, was pretty much nonexistent to the world—and being that much of a ghost tied to a big name wasn’t something ideal if any of the rumours that were beginning to spread were anything to go by. One big grand celebration was all she needed to shut the media up, it would settle the whispers and ease Peter’s transition out into the world. Because of course, as much as Tony would prefer hiding up his little Pete in the tower like a well protected treasure, he knows it wouldn’t do his son any good to have a social circle that mostly made up of already aging adults.

 

With that, they settle on a birthday party. 

 

A  _ Stark _ birthday party.

 

Peter, being Peter, is excited—eyes going wider than saucers when he gets told he’s going to get big balloons, a huge cake and lots of new friends for his birthday. Tony also promises a two meter tall stuffed bear at some point and Rhodey has to remind him to calm down, that Peter’s going to have  _ many _ birthday’s after this and Tony doesn’t need to act like Peter’s going to magically age up like a Sims character and suddenly turn eighteen and move away to college. 

 

The preparations go smoothly, no thanks to Pepper; from announcements, invitations, cake testing and overall running of the event is left to her and a gaggle of new people Tony’s pretty sure she’d just slapped together specifically for the event. He occasionally puts in his two cents, and Peter is mostly there to make sure everything is according to how  _ he _ wants it—obscenely chocolate rich ice-cream mousse cake, everything in red and blue (no compromise), a bouncy castle (also no compromise) and an indoor jungle gym.

 

An indoor  _ jungle gym _ .

 

Tony isn’t sure how Pepper manages it but it happens, and what makes Tony surprised is that it  _ works _ for some strange reason; professional had been what was in mind and mixed with Peter’s demands—it makes for a formal looking Gala event with the theme something resembling a Chuck E. Cheese restaurant. It’s hilarious, but also in good style, and that’s really all Tony is going for.

 

Another thing Tony finds out about Peter from the whole birthday debacle that he hates clothes. Very specifically—anything too constricting, and kicks up a fuss during his first fitting for a suit. Has a screaming match with the tailor who looks just about ready to pull his hair out and cry and only blithely calms down when Pepper chides him to be good and stay still. Peter gets decked in black, with red and blue trimmings, short pants and his own tiny pair of Oxfords to complete the look. As much as he didn’t like the fitting, it’d taken about another hour for them to get the fit off Peter because of how much he also liked going around and getting complimented; kid was practically preening and Pepper jokes about how much of an ego he’s going to have just like his old man.

 

The day rolls around quicker than expected, and it arrives with a bundle of nerves and an agitated seven-turning-eight year old confined to a limo because Tony  _ insisted _ on arriving fashionably late and he’ll be damned if his son doesn’t follow in those dramatic footsteps.

 

Tony has a more tame suit, traditional, the pomp is reserved all for Peter on his special day and the little kid even has his own set of fancy shades tinted red to complete the ensemble. He gets a joke from Scott telling him how they both looked like celebrities fresh off a magazine photoshoot until the guy gets a rather pointed  _ look _ from Sam—before realizing the Starks were in fact already celebrities, and the outfits were there only for effect.

 

“Ready to head in pup?”

 

He takes a glance at Peter who scrunches his face up at the nickname; something Rhodey had given him after commenting how much of an excitable puppy Peter looked like, following after Tony with stars in his eyes and having so much unconditional affection for the whole team. 

 

“Yeah!”

 

The limo pulls up to the crowd, the flashing of cameras ready to take every second of the famed Starks together. Happy gives the kid a thumbs up, some words of wisdom that Peter soaks up like the little suck up he is. He’s nervous understandably, Peter’s life was a whirlwind from one to another and he can’t imagine what it must be like going from the quiet peace of the Facility to suddenly gaining over ten people who were ready to shower him with attention at a moments notice. The media attention is an entirely different monster. Tony takes the first step and exits, the vultures more than eager to soak his presence up.

 

But if Tony thought the crowd grew wild when it came to him, it’s nothing to the sudden shift in the masses as Peter gets out—there’s much more jostling, and more cameras in his face that he’s almost a little worried for how Peter’s going to take it.

 

He glances down, and struggles not to look like a grinning fool.

 

Peter has the sweetest smile on, not a show of nervousness anywhere but he does take a step closer to Tony—who holds out his hand that Peter happily takes, shyly waving to any camera his way as they make it past the reporters and paparazzi. 

 

They ignore the questions, Pepper had made sure to jam any necessary information into the programme so they wouldn’t have to deal with it. The media would get what they were left with and not a corn chip more.

 

“You’re doing great kid.”

 

“Thanks dad.”

 

It’s a blissfully uninterrupted walk into the main hall, where everything goes into a kind of standstill at their entrance—but that’s when the party really begins, with a loud  _ pop _ and cheering that has Peter breaking into one of the biggest smiles Tony has ever seen.

 

Crowds are there to greet them, if it isn’t a handshake to Tony—it’s someone pushing their kid in front of Peter to meet. It’s by far the most child friendly event Tony has ever gone to, there’s juices and tarts to replace liquor and caviar. He spots the chocolate fountain on the main dining area, smaller dark and white chocolate fountains gushing it’s creamy liquid sugar with more than a few sugar-buzzed kids being ushered away by their concerned parents. There’s the promised bouncy castle off to one side, in the shape of a castle and already being piled with excited shrieking children. Among all that the adults still manage to stand around and act semi-professional, all in their best suits and dresses, occasionally turning attention to their huffing child; because _ of course  _ Tony has to go and say nannies and any form of caretaker wouldn’t be allowed in. The parents should be minding their own kids than prodding at other people’s business, and it’s a sound tactic.

 

The first familiar face of the night to greet them is Pepper, and it’s with Peter happily rushing up to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek as she leans down. Pepper returns with a peck and smooths his hair down. They make for an unbearably cute picture.

 

“You like the party?”

 

“Mhm, thank you!”

 

“Why don’t you go see how you like that bouncy castle?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

Peter bounds off without another word.

 

Tony gives her a considering look, she holds up a finger. “Don’t say it.”

 

“Come on, I have to now.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“Come on, let me say it, just once—”

 

“ _ —fine _ .”

 

“I told you so. I told you,  _ you’d love him. _ Look at you now, you’re wrapped around his grubby little eight year old fingers. He could ask you for a position on the board of directors and you’d probably find a way to get him on.”

 

She gives a relenting sigh, but it’s humoured more than anything. “He’s  _ cute _ , unlike someone I know.”

 

Tony returns a fake gasp. “Are you saying I’m  _ not _ cute?”

 

The night continues comfortably that way, Tony getting the chance to speak to a few people as his eyes wander over to occasionally search Peter out—who, rather unsurprisingly, has already gathered his own team of mini-minions and looks intent of exploring all the nooks and crannies of the event and it’s temporary jungle gym. Tony still has no idea how that was managed.

 

“He’s a lot like you, you know.”

 

Bruce appears out of nowhere, orange juice in hand. Looking more relaxed than he’s ever seen the man.

 

“I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”

 

The doctor shrugs, “Well, as long as he gets all your good I don’t see an issue.”

 

“He’s smart, smarter than me I reckon. You know I caught him trying to take apart DUM-E and—”

 

A brief cry alerts the two of them to the commotion and Tony hates how his immediate reaction is to panic and think Peter even though he knows that voice isn’t Peters.

 

“No! You pushed him, say sorry!” Now  _ that _ , was definitely Peter.

 

There’s a small crowd watching, it’s somewhere along the monkey bars and Peter is looking rather defiantly up at another kid probably a year or two older than him. Behind him another boy looks miserably at the open wound on his knee, a frown on a face Tony somehow feels like he remembers seeing before. But that’s not the issue.

 

“Why should I say sorry? He didn’t watch where he was going.”

 

“You pushed him. It’s your fault he fell.”

 

No, the issue was his eight year old looking just about ready to throw fists.

 

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do? Call daddy on me?”

 

“You know what, he just might.” Tony chooses this moment to intervene, Peter deflating a little but his stance getting less aggressive. “Wanna tell me what happened here?”

 

“I saw him shove Harry off the stand, he should say sorry but he doesn’t want to.”

 

The other kid, at this point, looks a little unnerved at having another adult in the picture—but thankfully Tony doesn’t have to say much before another woman steps in, definitely the boy’s mom, cuffing the kid on the ear before hissing angrily. “I can’t believe you’d do this  _ here _ . Apologize!”

 

The kid grumbles out a half assed apology before getting hauled off by the woman, and the people watching turn away at Tony’s infamously dismissive glare. One of the standby nurses, because of course Tony Stark would have standby medics in case any of the kids got seriously hurt, approaches to treat the wounded child. Peters sits down on the floor with him.

 

“You gonna be okay?”

 

“Huh? Yeah—thanks, you didn’t really have to.”

 

“Well he was rude and I didn’t like him anyway.”

 

He watches the two boys break into mirroring grins, God this was probably the start of  _ playdates _ or something but for the life of Tony he can’t put a name to that kid’s face even though it’s so familiar—

 

“Harold.”

 

_ Ah _ . There it was.

 

Norman Osborn slides out like a snake in the grass, that air of ridiculous pomp around him like a suffocating blanket. The man has a sneer on his face as he looks down on his kid, Harold Osborn—or Harry in this case now. 

 

“I got hurt.” 

 

“I see.”

 

The conversation is both incredibly awkward and more than a little tense, but smoothly does Norman’s attention move from his kid to Peter—who looks frankly a little suspicious at the guy but doesn’t make it obvious. Norman smiles, with all thinned lips and his eyes pulled, it comes across more creepy and Tony has the sudden urge to pluck Peter up and put a whole country distance between them.

 

“Peter Stark, I’m so glad my son could make your acquaintance. I’m sure the next time he won’t be this clumsy. Right, Harold?”

 

“Yes, father.”

 

Tony cringes at the exchange, Harry is more than just uncomfortable—head hung down, refusing to look up as if having  _ someone else _ push him was some grave irredeemable mistake.

 

“Hey Norman, looking like a sight for sore eyes, how about Jane—” He glances over to the nurse tending to Harry, her name plate in sight. “—yeah, Jane handle the kids while we go talk adult stuff.”

 

Peter looks a little grateful, his tact in reading the air and it being painfully obvious Harry probably didn’t want to be around his dad for the rest of the night. Tony acquiescence to being the subject of attention if it means he can give his kid whatever time he needed to work his sunshine magic. There’s no doubt in him if he doesn’t do this one thing Peter would nag him from hell and back to do something drastic—if there’s another thing Peter is, it’s  _ persistent _ .

 

“I’m surprised, I didn’t take you for the kind to have children.” Norman begins just as soon as they get out of earshot, but those words make Tony offer a cock of eyebrow.

 

“Really? I could say the same to you too.”

 

Norman chuckles, it’s not the pleasant kind. “Well, I doubt we adopted for the same reasons. I’m preoccupied with whose hands Oscorp will fall into. I’d rather someone I moulded myself.”

 

The reasoning isn’t bad, it’s what most upper elite we’re interested in anyways—if it wasn’t for media points then it’d be worrying over who’d be inheriting whatever they left behind. Less do people of that circle think about having children for the simple sake of having children, there’s always a reason behind every action. 

 

“So what, you take a kid in and train him like a dog?” Tony winces as he says the words, it’s spat like venom when he hadn’t meant to voice that opinion out. Norman’s response is immediate, a glower on his face and lips pulled back looking just about ready to snarl. 

 

“Everyone, may I have your attention please.”

 

Pepper’s sweet voice is his saving grace, he excuses himself, it’s just about time for the main event and he doesn’t need to check twice before scooping Peter up and hoisting the shrieking boy over his shoulders much to the amusement of everyone else watching.

 

Tony takes to the podium, it should make for interesting photos—playboy billionaire Tony Stark with his eight year old son grabbing tightly onto his hair.

 

“I hate speeches, and frankly I doubt Peter here has the patience to listen to his old man talk—”

 

“—that’s because you’re so  _ boring _ .” That draws a couple of chuckles, Tony puts on a mock look of offence.

 

“—you see what I have to deal with?” A sharp look from Pepper makes Tony cough. “Anyways, I haven’t formally introduced him but up right here is Peter Anthony Stark—my son and the future of Stark Industries who’s turning eight today. And—yeah, honestly, that’s about all I need to say. Got anything else to add bud?”

 

“Enjoy the cake!”

 

The room bursts into applause and cheers, and the music plays with the thunderous singalong of multiple people to ‘Happy Birthday’ as a cake gets wheeled in—but Tony doesn’t consider that  _ monstrosity _ a cake even if it does elicit the biggest gasp from Peter.

 

It’s towering, well over three meters in height and Tony makes a mental note to give the Chef a bonus for making such a good replica of Stark Tower. There’s added sparklers on the top, and Tony doesn’t question how they managed to fit an equally colossal number eight on top. It’s ridiculous, and he’s pretty sure it defies physics; but, and Tony thinks this as he puts his little tyrant down, if it turns that same sun radiating look of absolute adoration towards him, filled with nothing but gratitude and pure love—

 

Tony thinks giving Peter the  _ world _ wouldn’t be enough.

 

* * *

 

 

 

They get back to the compound just a little before twelve, it’s horridly early for the adults at the party but it’s a well received idea with how many kids have bedtimes earlier than that—Peter is no different, he gets tired past the eleven mark. Completely exhausted after all the running around he’s done and the sugar high of the chocolate cake wearing off, he still manages to give a couple of bleary waves and smiles as they leave but by the time they’re pulling up to the parking space of the Tower basement he’s already dozed off asleep tucked into Tony’s arms.

 

Happy pretends not to cry as he glances at the rearview mirror.

 

Tony, surprisingly, does actually feel tired—but it’s not in the usual bone-deep weariness or the kind of tired he feels after a long work out. It’s  _ content _ , a deep sated feeling of being full and complete utter calm, it’s almost like the feeling he gets out of the Iron Man suit too; undefeatable. But while Tony knows he has to work on the flaws of the suit, knowing there’s always something to improve on in the schematics and programme—this very feeling, with his son securely in his arms, doesn’t leave him grasping at any fraying edges.

 

He presses a kiss onto the side of Peter’s head, the boy giving a tired mumble before falling back asleep.

 

“Sir, I should inform you, the Avengers had initially prepared a smaller party for the young master but they have since been updated on his current state and have called the surprise off.” JARVIS chimes in a quiet whisper, the elevator moving them up.

 

“Thanks J.”

 

“Of course.”

 

The doors open and Tony can see where the little party was supposed to be, he assumes they’d all have hidden somewhere but instead the team stays lounged on the couches—only looking up and going over when they see him walk in with the sleeping kid. They all take turns then, giving soft ruffles over already messy hair and even Bucky presses an affectionate kiss on Peter’s temple, all wishing Tony goodnight before heading off to do their own thing. Only Nat is left, characteristic smirk on face as she watches.

 

“You’ve become different.”

 

Tony cocks an eyebrow, eyes turning to the pile of gifts close to him and eyeing the numerous ones labelled  _ from Aunt Tasha _ —some smaller, some medium sized, but there’s one noticeably larger than all the rest—and he returns the look.

 

“You’re one to talk.”


	4. baby's first uh oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings are a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> finally, the good doctor enters the fray. shorter chapter than normal but i promise to make up for it.
> 
> comments and kudos give me more motivation to write.

In hindsight, he should’ve expected it.

 

It’s something an everyday billionaire should anticipate, really, even more so  _ Iron Man _ .

 

He feels his vision blurring over, his chest seizing with every breath becoming a new struggle to take. Tony doesn’t register the clattering of him, still in his suit, falling over in the middle of the Quinjet when JARVIS pointedly informs him he’s having a panic attack just after delivering the news.

 

Tony doesn’t know who’s the first to get to him, all that there’s someone touching him and there’s a single consistent thought running through his brain as he says the next words in a choked rasp.

 

“Peter’s been kidnapped.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter likes going out, while he’d perfectly enjoyed his stay up in the Tower getting pampered to bits and spoiled rotton—it takes one exploration outing with Bucky and Steve that Tony decides it’s  _ good _ if Peter gets out to see the world. Peter had loved Coney Island, rode a dozen of the rides more than twice and had his fill of corn dogs enough to get sick of the things. They get home safely with an oversized stuffed rabbit and a, while tired, very happy eight year old.

 

Tony makes sure to make these little trips weekly, but he can’t promise everyday outings as much as Peter would’ve wanted. So they end up settling on a compromise, a nanny for Peter and they stay in disguise around New York. It’s worked smoothly, and Peter’s rambling stories now include a range of the people he’s met on the streets of the bustling city.

 

The nanny had been Pepper’s idea, as much as she or Happy would’ve been (no pun intended)  _ happy _ to babysit Peter at every moment of the day—they still had their jobs, and having a regular person around Peter; knew would always be free to head out with him, would be a good way for him to establish some kind of comfortable routine. The nanny is also hired by Pepper, a friendly greying old lady by the name of May, who’d taken care of plenty of kids before but had to stop after the death of her late husband Ben. She’d ended up deciding she wanted to go back into childcare, one of the few things she was passionate about, Peter takes to her immediately and that’s really what settles the paperwork.

 

After learning she had to move out of her last apartment, May also becomes a live-in nanny; mostly spending her days on a special floor of the Tower Tony had emptied out for her sake that Peter now spent most of his days on. She had signed an NDA, but it’s mostly for formality sake since May Parker didn’t so much as have a ticket for speeding. She was a lady who had lived her live quietly with her husband, no kids, no family she’d been close to, but had a whole heart full of love she’d been more than happy to pour on other kids—and now, Peter.

 

Her panicked voice still rings clearly in his ear, her voice that was always soft, polite, never loud, and always friendly—for once it sounded scared, and that  _ terrified _ Tony. She’d barely turned away, not even a few seconds from crossing the busy street and the next thing she knew Peter had just up and  _ disappeared _ . Gone in an instant. Not a single soul had seen who’d taken him, not even the street camera catches the moment Peter just seemingly blinked out of sight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter doesn’t know how it happened, one second he’d been standing next to Aunt May—she was telling him about her nephew, about his age, in Tennessee who Peter would probably enjoy playing with since he didn’t have many friends around his age—and the next moment Peter finds himself stumbling into  _ something _ and then the street he sees is suddenly, completely deserted and Aunt May is nowhere in sight.

 

It should bother him, and the silence  _ does _ bother him, but there’s also a mirage of what looks like glittering glass he doesn’t particularly want to cross and the only thing that isn’t covered by it the building right behind him.

 

The building doesn’t actually look too different from the others lining the street—he wouldn’t think too much of it if he passed by it.

 

Curiosity killed the cat.

 

Satisfaction brought it back.

 

He walks in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Stephen notes, is the new presence in the Sanctum.

 

It’s not hostile by any means, if it were, he’d have felt the malicious presence. No—this one is small, more curious than anything else. Moving at a slow pace along the empty corridors, he sighs as he closes the book on hand, the cloak carefully flitting by and clasping itself over his shoulders without need of command. 

 

He’d probably need to talk to Wong on their defenses, the barrier was meant to be a  _ deterrent _ and it doesn’t make much of an effective one if someone could stumble in the way the new person had. Whoever the intruder is, they’re an unwanted guest. Still he takes his time heading over, it’s not as if he gets particularly busy—and maybe he’d be able to get some answers on how the person managed to pass the barrier.

 

The corridors are empty from other life, most of the other trainees kept to the main training grounds of Kamar-Taj and generally their small force of trained sorcerers and sorceresses were spread across the other Sanctums—leaving Stephen, with his more than capable abilities, to defending the New York Sanctum.

 

He barely makes a sound with every footfall, the cloak billowing quietly behind him as they round the corner to the main area of where most of the other relics were kept. 

 

And there, basically only a  _ quarter _ of his height, was a child with his fingers wrapped around one of the said relics.

 

The boy gives a loud squeak as he struggles to put back the item, a bangle, dotted with a single white pearl and Stephen watches the child wince as he drops it—fumbling for a bit before putting it back on it’s stand. He finds himself staring at the boy rather blankly.

 

“I—I’m sorry—” The kid looks about a few seconds away from crying.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“Was it— _ uhm _ —important?”

 

“Yes, but plenty of people drop things here.” 

 

It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not a lie either. He’d dropped a number of things himself when he was new to the place so he has no space to criticize anyone else with the same curiosity. At least the kid began to look slightly less pale, glancing up curiously at Stephen with a cautious, albeit nervous, smile.

 

“Want to tell me how you got in?”

 

“I’m not— _ uhm _ —sure? The road just suddenly got quiet and I couldn’t find Aunt May and—”

 

The child pauses, and Stephen isn’t sure why he does until he notices the movement of the cloak from his peripheral. 

 

What Stephen doesn’t expect is when the cloak abruptly decides to unclasp itself from his shoulders. 

 

Flitting over with a sudden  _ thiwp _ and practically wrapping itself around the boy’s head in an uncharacteristic manner of impulsiveness. The boy gives a yelp of surprise, hands going up to his covered face and Stephen is about midway through a panic at whether it was a sign for hostility before he notices the amount of  _ wriggling _ the mystical relic was doing around the covered head.

 

“Hey— _ pft _ —stop! It tickles!” There’s giggling, voice muffled but not suffocated.

 

His shoulders sag, partly from relief, all before a feeling of incredulity manages to replace it. 

 

“You’re strangling the child.”

 

There’s a brief pause in the bundle, before the cloth calmly rearranges itself to look more like an oversized scarf with the boy’s nose just peeking out from under all the red. A tentative hand strokes across the material, like the way you’d treat a very small pet, a look of awe on sparkling eyes.

 

“Woah—does it—can it— _ listen _ ?”

 

The word at the end is said in a whisper, but Stephen doesn’t have to answer when the edges of the cloak smoosh the side of the child’s face. Squishing chubby cheeks before releasing, seemingly content to stay wrapped around the boy with no interest in returning to Stephen.

 

This is most definitely a first. 

 

He thinks to himself he’d just kick the boy out, but instead he finds himself asking the one question that’s bound to lead his life getting tangled in this child’s—he just knows it, being Sorcerer Supreme also meant there were just some things in life he couldn’t prevent. 

 

Coincidences didn’t exist in this world, that much he’s learned, only the inevitable.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony feels the hysterical creep of mania getting worse, it’s coming to an hour since the team first got word of Peter’s disappearance and he can feel the physical toll on his body as his brain continues to drive him to worse thoughts on what might’ve happened. No matter how many times he rewinds the blurry image of the street camera, it shows the same thing, Peter there one second—and gone within the next. Even JARVIS can’t offer an explanation of what happened.

 

The rest of the team are in the same various states of shamble, it’s distressing news to come back to just after a mission. They’re tired as they are, adding in the disappearance of their sunshine puts a heavy damper on their mood. 

 

Tony also begins plans to make a tracker.

 

Then he breaks down because there’s not point in a tracker if there’s no son.

 

A son he’s not even sure is alive at this point, but clings to the idea if kidnappers had gotten to him they’d do the ransom bid first—but Tony also knows he has enemies, enemies more than willing to pay a pretty price to see Tony weak and broken from a death that will undoubtedly break him.

 

For once he prays, that whatever idea of righteous fury and fear of the full force of the Avenger’s anger would be enough to dissuade anyone from trying anything on Peter. 

 

His prayers are answered just passing the hour mark.

 

A flit of gold and ring appears right smack in the middle of their common room, and their bodies are tensed in apprehension—Tony is about to call his suit before the very elated face of his boy, his baby, shines through the luminous ring and Peter, safe and unharmed, comes crashing into his arms. He holds his child a little too tightly, the boy cheering happily and looking otherwise entirely unruffled. Squealing, even if his voice does come a little muffled from the scarf(?) currently wrapped around him.

 

Someone else crosses the portal with him.

 

“I believe he’s yours.”

 

The stranger is firstly, as Tony notes, dressed weird—not even on the level of Thor’s battle armour weird but reminding Tony of monks clothes. Hair pushed back, greying strands on the side, face carefully schooled into impassiveness and hands clasped professionally behind his back. The team looks entirely ready to pounce him, but still the stranger looks completely unbothered by the amount of weapons currently aimed at him and just how deadly silent the room had become at his presence.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Sam is the first to speak.

 

The man turns to give a rise of a delicate eyebrow. “Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m only here to deliver your child.”

 

Peter, who’d been entirely happy to keep hugging Tony, turns at this point. That same megawatt smile now directed at the Doctor and Tony has more than one question he wants to desperately wrangle out of the man.

 

“Thanks Doctor Strange!”

 

What’s surprising is the rather disarming fond quirk of lips the stranger returns. “Of course.” The man looks about ready to turn and leave, but before that he gives a stern glance over, then rather brusquely. “Come.” 

 

Tony is understandably confused at first, thinking it’s an order to his child but then Peter is patting down the red scarf wrapped around him and then the thing starts  _ moving _ and slides off Peter’s shoulder to float over to where the magical man stands. Hooking itself around his broad shoulders and Tony realizes it’s a cloak before the guy disappears in another round of flying gold sparks that is apparently now obvious to Tony being magic.

 

“Someone wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?”

 

Peter, the only person entirely unbothered by the situation, whips his head to the offending speaker with a big disapproving frown on his face.

 

“Language!”


	5. i wish it were gayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thinks he likes the guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> more STEPHEN, i think this story is only going to have about two more chapters then im closing it up
> 
> comments and kudos give me more motivation to write
> 
> ON ANOTHER NOTE tell me what you guys want to see more of??? i wouldnt mind made a side story filled with just snippet oneshots of this au uwu i honestly just want an excuse to write more iron dad can u see that

The good doctor becomes something of a new permanent fixture in Peter’s life, much to Tony’s ire.

 

Not that he hates the guy, but Tony can count on one hand the amount of people he does actually like, and Stephen Strange is most definitely  _ not _ one of them. 

 

He can’t say the same for Peter.

 

Peter, who absolutely  _ adores _ the guy—and now May tells him their daily outings include stopping by the rather discreet little building along the path they thought Peter had been kidnapped on. May never fails to let him know they’re about to enter the building before the tracking device blips out and  _ malfunctions _ , they stay for no longer than an hour before leaving; the little device kicking back up and letting Tony know they’re within range again.

 

Turns out there are Sorcerers on Earth, and the only people on the team who aren’t particularly surprised by the news are Thor and Loki.

 

“Oh, yes—we had a chance to meet with the good man. Very talented in his art. The little spider will be safe.” Thor nods, sagely like he just imparted some important wisdom.

 

Loki has a distinct sneer on his face, clear dislike for the mere mention of the name, cuddling Peter closer as he asks. “Who’s magic is better?”

 

Peter, the ever guileless little suck up who’s entirely aware of his own magic he has, smiles sweetly. “Uncle Loki’s is the best!”

 

The name pings a number of interesting news articles, almost all of them praising Stephen for the prodigal neurosurgeon he’d been— _ past tense _ , the most recent article on an accident that had taken his career and nearly taken his life. It’s almost radio silence from then on, nothing else detailing what else the guy had been up to.

 

Clearly something had happened, no one turns from a hard science respecting man to a Harry Potter knock-off in one night.

 

On the rare day Tony can spare, he actually accompanies Peter on his usual strolling route, giving May an early off with a more than happy Peter to have his dad be the one walking him around on his visit to his other favourite new person. Of course Tony has his jacket and shades up, and thankfully no one recognises them along the route. Peter gets visibly excited as they get closer, and for a brief second Tony panics as Peter slips from his hold and runs excitedly—again disappearing in a blink and Tony follows hesitantly to around the same location.

 

Tony practically  _ feels _ the shift in the air.

 

It’s subtle, a little unnerving how the bustling street suddenly drops to dead silence. Not another soul in the area but Peter, who’s safe, waving at him to hurry up at the foot of some nondescript building and again bounds inside without so much of a care for his own safety.

 

Tony is going to get a heart attack at this rate.

 

He follows as quickly as he can, feeling a little naked without the suit and waltzing into unfamiliar territory without any form of protection. But Peter had begged Tony to leave his tech behind, it wouldn’t work in the Sanctum, and Peter had sworn Stephen would keep them safe. Peter was safe, May had always been kept safe, therefore Tony was also safe—according to his logic.

 

The guy greets them at the foot of some seriously ominous looking steps, looking more humoured than anything as Peter happily runs up to give a hug around legs—and Tony feels an aneurysm impending when the cloak, red suspicious thing, moves and basically wraps around Peter. Hoisting him up.

 

Peter who only replies with cheerful laughter, entirely unbothered by the fact he’s being encapsulated by a potentially dangerous piece of cloth hovering a few meters above the ground.

 

“I’m sorry—is that supposed to be …  _ normal _ ?”

 

Stephen gives him a borderline snide once over. The prick. “Yes, the cloak has a strange affection for Peter. He’ll be safe. Tea?”

 

“I’d ask if you have anything stronger but yeah, tea sounds good.”

 

Peter floats along with them, bundled in a supposedly secure wrap like a red burrito child. Tony isn’t sure if he should be scared of his son being suffocated or falling to his death.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What are your intentions with my son.”

 

He winces at how unnecessarily harsh he sounds but can’t help the aggression, especially not when Stephen returns with an impeccable arch of a ridiculously groomed eyebrow. Lips hovering over the cup of steaming tea and putting it down before replying. Peter stays distracted, the cloak wrapped around him like a blanket as a model of the universe played about the darkened room—Peter’s wide eyes tracking the different planets and happily poking each star that would burst into an array of color. 

 

Tony frowns. He could literally  _ build _ the same thing. This is unfair.

 

“I have none. I’ll have you know Peter is the one who insists on coming by.”

 

“Pete is that true?”

 

Eyes still glued to the magical projection, Peter nods. “Mhm, Doctor Strange is  _ super _ lonely.”

 

The guy shifts a little at the words. “What he means is that there’s no one else here. I usually protect the Sanctum alone and another disciple will come by every few days.”

 

Peter finally turns around, frown on his face, a cookie halfway to his mouth as he says. “Yeah, that’s  _ lonely _ .”

 

Tony barks a laughter as the doctor gives him a curious glance over, questioning. “Look, you gotta understand his whole life has been filled with nothing but people around him—he’s not going to leave if he sees you don’t have anyone else, you know that right?”

 

Stephen gives another shift, consideration on his face. “He’s not bothering, I have no objection.”

 

“Trust me buddy, that’s just the start of things.”

 

Their meeting, as much as Tony would never admit to it, went  _ well _ .

 

He doesn’t know what the guy had sneaked into the tea but he feels the most relaxed he’s been all week, coupled with an equally cheerful Peter rounds off to a very good day. In that time, with Peter being thoroughly engrossed with the projections Stephen kept on running with his magic—he also learns a little more about the man, well, as much as he’s willing to give at least.

 

Sorcerer Supreme, it’s a really fucking pretentious title but Tony doesn’t say anything against it. 

 

If the Avengers were there to fight off the physical threats, then the sorcerers were there to fight off the …  _ mystical _ . Whatever that meant. If Tony hasn’t seen any weird amalgamation of a darkness monster roaming around New York he considers that a job well done by the Wizard of Oz.

 

Peter eventually does tell Tony he wants to go back, just passing that same hour mark and again the cloak ( _ of Levitation _ , apparently a sentient piece of garment that’s supposedly loyal to Stephen but also has an inexplicable love for Peter) slithers rather depressingly off his kid’s shoulder and begins pooling on the floor. Peter pats the mess.

 

“Don’t be sad, I’ll be back tomorrow!”

 

If possible the cloak looks even more depressed, further deflating before floating up and returning back around Stephen’s shoulder.

 

“Bye Doctor Strange!”

 

“Goodbye, Peter.”

 

They head off with a wave, even the cloak giving something of a goodbye as it flicks its red hand(?) around.

 

They work something out that way, whenever Tony can spare he’s hoisting Peter up and heading to the Sanctum—the team don’t mention his occasional brief disappearance, and only Pepper is the one who smiles and says he’s always considerably relaxed after each visit; tension in the shoulder gone, teeth unclenched, and less does he feel the thrumming unhinged energy that usually threatens to burst under his skin. 

 

He  _ really _ has to know what the guy puts in the tea.

 

Stephen grows as much used to his presence as Tony does, at least that’s what he garners from their interactions; mostly muted, both simply content with watching Peter get enthralled by every new magic Stephen has for show (he remembers once hearing the guy mutter how he’s pretty sure this isn’t how he’s supposed to be using his abilities, but whatever) and occasionally answering whatever question Tony has about the place.

 

“You could become an Avenger.”

 

“Another unnecessary set of responsibilities that would interfere with my duty.”

 

Peter, who always manages to chip into their conversations despite always looking too engrossed in whatever he’s doing, pipes in. “Could he visit the Tower dad? I wanna show Doctor Strange Bailey.”

 

“Yeah, if he’s not too busy defending the mystical realm, why not.”

“I assume that’s the name of a dog?”

 

“Spider.” Tony corrects, face grim.

 

“ _ Spider _ ?”

 

Peter had gotten Bailey,  _ a very big, hairy, menacing Tarantula _ , as a present from Natasha—in one of the boxes that had been in the pile for Peter’s birthday. Peter was understandably ecstatic, Natasha had been his favourite person for at least a full month before everyone else started complaining they didn’t get enough attention from Peter anymore. Even Tony was peeved enough to one-up her, getting Peter a four meter long aquarium that spanned across the Avengers living space just for the spider alone. 

 

Tony is almost certain Bailey is just as spoiled, fed fat off the insects Peter never forgets to give and lovingly cared for each time he brings the Tarantula out to ‘play’. That usually entailed Sam and Scott hightailing and disappearing for the rest of the day.

 

One time, Clint had walked in just as Peter was in the middle of trying to teach the Tarantula a trick—so there eight year old Peter Stark was, with a Tarantula that was about the size of an adult palm, covering his entire face.

 

Clint had given the loudest high-pitched shriek, Natasha never let him live it down, sometimes Tony has JARVIS replay the clip for fun in front of everyone.

 

Stephen in comparison is much more relaxed, has the most impassive features even as Peter gently lays the creature onto his open palm. A cursory finger just trailing along the back of the unmoving spider. Tony shivers.

 

“ _ Jesus _ , you’re the same as Nat, how can you touch it?”

 

“Don’t be rude! Bailey is cute, you’re just a wimp.”   
  


“Hey! How dare you call your father a wimp—”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Outsider of their Peter times, Tony does eventually meet the doctor on the battlefield.

 

They’re fighting off what Thor had compared to oversized alien puppies from another dimension, big screeching things sludging their way through New York dressing the city up in disgusting brown muck as the guy appears with a flutter of red. 

 

“Huh—so this counts as a mystical threat?”

 

“A little.”

 

The fight ends a lot smoother with the doctor around, and a lot cleaner too—they’re mostly relieved they can leave the gunk to be cleared out by someone else and Tony actually  _ invites _ Stephen to join them on their normal celebratory cheeseburger run after any particularly annoying mission. Stephen who, graciously accepts and gets to meet the rest of the Avengers who are a little more than interested in meeting the mysterious Doctor Strange; the mystery man who’s somehow manage to relax Tony and calm down Peter in the span of one uninterrupted hour.

 

“So what do you actually put into the tea?” Scott asks, hovering curiously.

 

“Water.” Stephen replies, entirely deadpan, rousing laughter from Tony.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony ends up retracting his initial assessment of the doctor.

 

The guy inexplicably manages to worm his way into the list of people Tony now adequately tolerates, added a note on the side over the fact he has to get his hands on the weird stuff Stephen’s been feeding the two Starks to get them to unwind so quickly. 

 

Peter’s a good judge of character, so Tony can’t really mark the guy off for anything he’s done—Peter also enjoys visiting the doctor; and Tony never faults the guy for appearing at the Tower, usually bearing treats Tony is certain only comes from very specific shops in very specific countries that only happen to bake their goods on the same day and never sold internationally. The kind Tony usually spends a good few thousand on to get them flown in by jet for same-day delivery.

 

He leaves that thought for another time.

 

The fact is, Peter is  _ happy _ with this new addition to their strange little family—and Tony can honestly say he feels the same.

 

And just like that, Tony can say life is good.

 


	6. and if there's a god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony prays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> IM SO SORRY i know i mentioned id have like maybe 2 chapters to add but i wrote this chapter and was like ??? u kno what this is a good place to end YEEHAW so here we are please enjoy im def gonna continue the series but im not sure when the next part is coming 
> 
> as always
> 
> comments and kudos give me more motivation to write

It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s never a good time.

 

Tony knows it’s his fault for refusing to go see a doctor about it, he supposes a part of it being stubbornness—another part just refusing to admit he has a problem handling it. Anxiety. Big bouts of it, enough it even has JARVIS exasperated whenever Tony begins to allude to it being a physical issue. He’s  _ Iron Man _ , he’s supposed to be above these things. Right?

 

Wrong.

 

He can feel his chest tightening in that uncomfortable way it usually does, squeezing every breath from his lungs that has him wheezing and struggling for air. It was just a news channel that Peter had just happened to flick to and settle on; and Tony finds himself crumpled over his work bench, sliding off the side in heavy pants.

 

“Dad?”

 

_ Oh God. _

 

Peter’s concerned voice chirps, lowering the news anchor and now casting a worried glance over the couch. Tony tries to reply, tries to tell Peter  _ he’s fine _ but the most that just comes out are pained gasps.

 

“Young master, it appears sir is having a panic attack. I am in the middle of contacting Miss Potts.”

 

“W—what do I do?”

 

At this point Peter has rushed over, worry so heavily traced into features. Tentative hands kept by his side, too scared one wrong move might do something to set Tony back further. JARVIS shuts off the TV thankfully, but Tony still feels like the worst father at this point, he shouldn’t be having panic attacks in front of his eight year old. 

 

“My protocols are that you should be guided out the room and wait until sir is calm again.”

 

“But I don’t want to leave—what’s taking her so long—” At this point Peter looks close to tears, refusing to budge from his spot. 

 

“Miss Potts is in the middle of a meeting, she will be up shortly.”

 

Shakily Tony watches Peter fumble with a bangle on his wrist, almost similar to the one Loki had given Peter sometime back; but instead of a deep emerald green, the rock glimmers a shimmering gold.

 

“Doctor Strange? I-I need help—dad is—please help—lab—”

 

Peter gives a couple of sniffles, close to Tony as he chokes out the words. Not even a second passes before the familiar ring of sparkle appears, out coming a worried doctor with a deep crease between his brows as he spots them.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I—I don’t know—I was watching the TV then JARVIS says he’s having a panic attack but I don’t know what to do—”

 

“Okay Peter, I need you to give us a little space.” Stephen moves easily enough, shifting in front of Tony. 

 

“Tony, I’m going to touch you, is that okay?”

 

_ Nod. _

 

Carefully, a set of warm palms are on his cheek, it’s the most grounding thing he feels at the moment. Strangely cathartic. “I need you to focus on your breathing, can you do that?”  _ Nod. _ “Good. I need you to count to ten with me now.”

 

They go through the numbers slowly, but it’s not something Tony notices when he begins to feel the tightening slowly loosen up—when hiccuped breaths turn shallow and he doesn’t feel the world spinning when he finally focuses his gaze back to the doctor. They get to ten just as Pepper arrives, with the worried clack of her heels and surprised face at the sight of Stephen carefully holding Tony’s, entirely calm now, face.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, thanks Pep.” Blearily, he gives a half hearted thumbs up, trying to smile. Stephen retracts his hands and Tony tries not to think about how much he wants those palms back on him. She gives a relieved sigh, “Okay, good, thank you for coming by—” She gives a glance over to Stephen. “—do you need anything?” Tony shakes his head, waving her off, it’s a little unfair he’s wired JARVIS to call her every time he gets set back; but before he’d never imagined someone  _ else _ rushing to help draw him out of those anxiety zones.

 

Peter comes around the corner, cautious and Tony’s heart breaks—a palming motion and he has Peter curled up next to him, whispering his apologies as Tony desperately tries to soothe him.

 

“Hey pup, it’s not your fault okay? That happens sometimes. It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re all okay.” Against his chest, Peter nods, clinging too tightly onto his torso. Tony grimaces back up to the doctor, “You don’t happen to have any of that magic work for kids right?”

 

Stephen’s eyes soften. “He’ll be okay Peter. You did good calling me.”

 

Peter’s gentle, that much Tony knows—a kid with a heart entirely too big and sensitive to every minute change and ready to chip off pieces of himself if it meant someone else’s happiness. Some would call that being soft, but to Tony it’s a form of empathy on an entirely different level. 

 

This time, the scrutiny is turned onto him, and Tony’s  _ really _ not enjoying how the doctor manages to make him feel bad with a look. “You should get that treated.”

 

“I know.” Tony grouses, but it’s entirely without bite.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Another thing are the nightmares.

 

They’re not that often of course, not these days anyways since adopting Peter, but they happen sometimes. Catching him in those unsuspecting moments of quiet slumber, at least the suits aren’t wired to respond anymore—God only knows he’d never forgive himself if a suit unconsciously attacked Peter.

 

Peter, who’s like a warm buzzing furnace, quietly dozing next to him.

 

Peter has his own room, slept in it too for the first few weeks; but somewhere along the line his son had just realized Tony’s room was never locked to him—and when he’d become comfortable enough with Tony, he’d come to crawl and tuck himself next to him.

 

The first time it happened Tony did  _ not _ cry like a big baby.

 

By morning he’d found himself having gone through the best sleep ever with an arm protectively around the much tinier body, coconed against him, and for awhile Tony feels like he can protect Peter from the world.

 

But the nightmares.

 

He jolts awake, shivering, sweat beading down his forehead and JARVIS hushedly informs him it’s 5AM. He tries to be subtle about it, but the treamours don’t go away—and Peter’s sensitive enough to wake up, eyes blinking lazily.

 

“—dad?”

 

“It’s okay buddy, go back to sleep.”

 

The tone clearly alerts something in him, now brown eyes are wide open. Sitting up and immediately noting the disarray.

 

“... you’re lying. You’re not okay.”

 

Is it weird how affected Tony suddenly feels by the accusation in his tone.

 

“Sorry bud, go back to sleep. I’ll be okay in awhile.”

 

“No.” Peter’s wide awake at this point, very clear frown on his face. Tony sighs.

 

“I’m gonna go to my labs, I’ll work it off. I’ll be fine.”

 

“I wanna walk to the Sanctum.”

 

“At this hour? Buddy I don’t think he’ll be awake and we don’t want to bother—”

 

Peter immediately cuts him off. “Doctor Strange never sleeps, come on.”

 

“Wow, okay, when did you get so bossy?”

 

Their walk to the Sanctum at five thirty in the morning isn’t the weirdest thing Tony has had to do, but he does feel bad for waking Peter—he’s pretty sure the kid needs a solid eleven hours of sleep for his growing body. While it’s a subject he tries to bring up Peter only tells him,  _ very curtly _ , that he takes afternoon naps and those count towards the missing hours and that it’s very important for him his dad doesn’t do something reckless like work twelve hours non-stop holed up in the workshop just to pass out.

 

He doesn’t argue against that logic.

 

New York in the morning is a sight he doesn’t get to see often, the crisp morning air nips across his cheeks and there’s only one or two of the occasional joggers that pass them; rare moments in time he doesn’t get recognized off the bat and can actually enjoy being outside without some disguise or another. Peter looks just as refreshed, inhaling the morning air unpolluted by fumes of the usual bustling cars and jumping across individual concrete slabs in bunny hops.

 

“Say, you wanna visit Central Park when it opens?”

 

The eight year old nearly stumbles but still whips around with a grin.

 

“Yeah! Can we invite Stephen too?”

 

“Sure if he—wait. Okay, so when did Doctor Strange become  _ Stephen _ ?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gala’s aren’t his usual hauntings, but since having Peter there’s a level of obligation for someone of his social standing to appear with his child next to him—especially if it’s his own party we’re talking about here. The experience isn’t entirely horrible either, Peter gets additional people to charm and he learns more about the world that came with having the name of Stark.

 

Peter adopts to the life fairly well.

 

Which is saying a lot, since the kid he’d brought home all those months back was so put off by cameras. But now Peter practically bathes in the attention, giving sweet smiles every time a lens is pointed at him and expertly looking timidly abashed everytime he has to answer a question—privately tells Tony he has Pepper and Natasha to thank, the both of them having given him lessons on how to guide a crowd under the limelight.

 

When Tony complains Peter could have gone to him for lessons, his son haughtily informs him Tony’s brand of attention was—and using his exact word— _ ostentatious _ .

 

A frown wrinkles on his face, mock betrayal. Though he doesn’t get much chance to complain when Peter wriggles out of his grip, squealing happily and running up to—huh, the doctor.

 

Stephen looks impeccable, he always does but there’s a certain flair added tonight, the suit fits well against his form and Tony distinctly remembers this is a man who’d comfortably worn money like nothing before his accident—there should be no surprise he can scream stylish and wealthy as good as Tony can. He also notes the casual overcoat, a deep maroon that settles over his shoulders that gives the doctor something of a more dangerous feel too. It’s only when the garment gives a very,  _ very _ , subtle flick of its collar that Tony realizes what it is.

 

“So the fancy cloak can transform?”

 

Stephen gives a noncommittal shrug, “Refused to leave me alone when I made a comment Peter would be here.” Peter, who’s hoisted on the doctors arms looking entirely too happy to continue babbling a mile a minute about anything. Stephen having the patience of a saint just listens, occasionally nodding and giving his own input.

 

Cameras are flashing around them now and Tony can practically predict what the tabloids are going to say tomorrow, if how close he’s standing to the two of them is going to be any indication.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter turns nine, and begrudgingly, Tony realizes he has to send him to school.

 

Which is frankly a little absurd of a thought to him, home tutoring is an entirely viable option especially since JARVIS was literally a fountain of knowledge—Pepper however, thinks otherwises. 

 

“It be good for him to interact with kids his own age, in an environment that’s not so strictly controlled.”

 

Tony wants to argue, really he does, but Pepper is right about that; Tony’s become so strangely protective over Peter his thoughts barely linger to his leftover projects anymore. And don’t get him wrong, that’s good—but a part of him still craves the feeling of blasting music and just working away on his tools without the worry of where Peter was and whether he was being kept busy enough. 

 

School it is.

 

It’s not hard to find a private school with a good record sheet, incidentally it’s also one attended by the Oscorp child so Peter thankfully has a friend when he enters his grade.

 

Things go smoothly for the first day, and the second day passes then the third and Tony can breath easy because there’s been no issue on Peter’s part and thing’s are normal.

 

That is, until the second week finishes and Peter has the biggest frown on his face as he dumps his bag onto the floor. 

 

“What’s the matter pup?”

 

Loudly, and rather annoyed, Peter announces. “They’re all  _ stupid _ .”

 

Which draws laughter from Sam sitting nearby, pausing the game just to listen to Peter go into an immediate rant about how he can do  _ everything _ in his class and everything is  _ boring _ and his classmates ask the  _ dumbest _ questions.

 

He gets a call that same evening, by the principal, politely asking if Tony’s gotten Peter’s IQ tested yet.

 

He hasn’t. He schedules one.

 

Tony is sitting on a solid 171. Peter is at 172.

 

That single point difference makes Tony strangely proud. 

 

For some strange reason eventually Stephen gets roped into the conversation, he’d known Peter was smart—the IQ test was just a confirmation. But now comes a little more delicate situation; at his age Howard had pushed Tony to keep skipping grades, it elevated him to get that genius title but also left him with very stunted social skills and a nonexistent pool of friends. He doesn’t want Peter to go through the same.

 

Peter’s response however, surprises him. 

 

“Dad,  _ I don’t care _ . I can make friends in my own time, Aunt Tasha already has me making buddy with my entire gymnastics team—if I don’t skip grades I really don’t see why I have to go to school when I already know the lesson.”

 

Stephen besides him nods in consideration, “He has a point Tony, it’s important to feel challenged. Otherwise I can see it becoming too … dull for him.”

 

Peter skips ahead two grades, just a start, if he manages the final then he’s given free pass to skip another two.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony’s day starts with Peter.

 

With his bright smile over steaming hot chocolate and waffles, a wave and bounding off when Happy comes to pick him up for school. Then Tony fills the rest of his day with whatever that came his way, missions, projects—he even finds himself asked out on dates with the doctor ( _ don’t ask _ , Tony isn’t sure how that man had managed to slot himself into his life) and it’s not like Tony can argue against them; not when the guy can magic them anywhere in the world and Tony can enjoy gelato off an Italian street vendor and return back to New York in time for Peter coming back from whatever set of extra curriculars he had.

 

They go to the park, they take a walk, sometimes they stay in the Tower to just watch a film and eat popcorn. Tony makes sure to give as many days as he can for these private moments, and if not him then Stephen is always more than happy to fill in. Sometimes the both of them. Sometimes the whole team, the entirety of the Avengers just laughing over a new antic or complaint Peter has about the kids in his school. It always varies, but not a day does Peter ever spend alone.

 

He knows what it’s like to come back to a quiet house, the silence more suffocating than any set of strangling hands. He’s vowed not to be the same as Howard, Tony hopes he’s keeping that end up of the promise.

 

Then Tony tucks him in bed, though Peter still sometimes crawls and sleeps with Tony that happens less these days—Peter’s become comfortable in his own room, with the books and all the tech and the clear live-in with the strewn papers and haphazardly completed worksheets. He kisses Peter’s forehead, then turns off the lights.

 

He’s not a pious man, but in those rare moments of watching caramel eyes flutter shut, as Peter falls into another quiet peaceful sleep for the night—he finds it in himself to thank whatever deity that gave him this moment, and only has a simple prayer for anyone listening:

 

_ Please protect him. _

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony’s world ends when Peter turns ten.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ “—in another shocking turn of events, Peter Stark—single child to billionaire Tony Stark and sole heir to Stark Industries—has been reported missing. With his disappearance, this makes for twenty-two suspected child kidnappings within the New York City area under similar circumstances. The police have not released an official statement regarding their search but have assured they are doing their best to locate the missing children. Authorities have advised families to ensure their children are accompanied at all times as—” _

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter 2 scream & commission me there yeehaw [@therealconnor60](https://twitter.com/therealconnor60)


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